The New Supreme
by JR-Boone
Summary: Cordelia won't let Misty spend eternity in hell.


**Author: J.R. Boone (Tumblr: JRAbraxas) **  
><strong>The New Supreme<strong>  
><strong>Rating: It wouldn't be me if it wasn't M. <strong>  
><strong>Disclaimer: I don't own AHS or it's characters. But really with all the fanfiction I've written for Ryan Murphy's productions I should be getting royalties right?<strong>  
><strong>Author's Note: So yeah. I had to fix this. It was just….NO.<strong> **Not beta'd. **  
><strong>Summary: Cordelia won't let Misty spend eternity in hell.<strong>

The coven was thriving. From all over the country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, from the North to the South, from the sprawling cities to the remote one horse towns; girls, witches were pouring in to unite as one and learn under Cordelia's guidance.

Naturally it kept Cordelia busy. Her days and nights were spent finding and being found by all of these talented young witches and then finding them safe passage to New Orleans. Queenie and Zoë had become invaluable to Cordelia in the three months since she had brought the coven out of the shadows and into the light. The two worked seamlessly together, whether it was getting the girls adjusted or keeping peace they were a force to be reckoned with, and even the Madison and Fiona wannabes were smart enough to silence themselves in their presence.

Things had really…come to fruition for the Supreme. And yet…she could not allow herself to be happy. She was proud yes, but happiness eluded her. A chance at it was lost in her nightmares. Nightmares where she heard Myrtle screaming, engulfed in flames at Cordelia's own command and nightmares where she feared, even now, the ever present threat of witch hunters.

But the worst nightmares of all, the ones that kept her awake in her greenhouse every night until dawn and exhaustion overtook her, were of Misty; her sweet, talented, and beautiful Misty Day. The only one of all of them who was devoid of blood on her hands, and the one who least deserved hell of them all.

Each night Cordelia went to bed, vowing that tonight would be different. She would fall asleep and Misty's eternal torment would not plague her like every night before. Every night she failed.

It was maddening, seeing Misty like that. Maddening enough she could no longer stand it. Maddening enough that on the three month anniversary of Misty's death and Cordelia's rise to Supremacy she could take no more. A plan formulated in her mind in less than a second. It was dangerous. In all likelihood she would fail and all of the hard work she had put in over the last three months would be for nothing. But, she had to try. She couldn't let Misty face hell alone. She wouldn't.

The next night she excused herself early, bidding Zoë and Queenie overly affectionate good nights that had both girls looking at her oddly. No matter, in the morning they would understand. One way or another.

Falling into hell was easy for a witch like Cordelia. The right frame of mind, the correct words said, and boom she stood in front of her mother so fast it made her head ache.

Fiona looked amazing in Cordelia's version of hell, like she had looked when Cordelia was a little girl in fact. Age had not yet begun to wrinkle her face and hands, and the liquor she consumed had not yet blemished her skin. She was radiant. And she was deadly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Fiona asked, lighting a cigarette and sneering at Cordelia.

"I-I…" Cordelia stammered, her nerves starting to race under her mother's judgmental glare.

"You-you what?" Fiona mocked shaking her head. "You've come to be the hero? How could you Cordelia ever be anyone's hero?"

"That's not fair mother," Cordelia said shaking her head and grimacing. "I've become…I'm the Supreme now. And I'm good."

"You're not good!" Fiona cackled throwing her head back. "You're no more special then the Supreme who came before me. And we both know what happened to that old bitch don't we."

And suddenly Cordelia did know. Fiona had cut Anna-Leigh Leighton's throat the same as she had cut Madison Montgomery's.

"That's right," Fiona laughed blowing a plume of smoke in Cordelia's face. "Now me. I was a Supreme. A better Supreme then you'll ever be Cordelia. You should cut your own throat and pass it on now if you know what's good for you."

"No," Cordelia said shaking her head furiously and putting her hands over her ears. "No I won't listen. I've become a better Supreme in three months then you ever were. You were a complete failure."

"Why you little witch," Fiona snapped.

And then it came. The bitch slap from hell. Cordelia watched it arch through the air, powerless to stop it, unable to brace for it. It stung. It stung so bad it made her ears ring. Blinking her eyes from the pain she stumbled back, the wall behind her the only thing keeping her from hitting the floor.

Fiona was standing above her looking more glorious then ever. "What the hell are you doing here?" Fiona asked, lighting a cigarette and sneering at Cornelia.

"I-I…" Cordelia stammered, her nerves starting to race under her mother's judgmental glare.

Again and again the scene repeated.

"You, you?"

"Nobodies hero."

"Slit your own throat now."

Bitchslap.

Cordelia's throat was tight and her cheek stung as if her mother was using pyrokinesis has apposed to the palm of her hand. Shamefully, Cordelia began to feel her eyes mist with tears and then…

Mist with tears.

Mist.

Misty!

Suddenly power surged through Cordelia's body as she remembered her purpose. Misty. Misty Day her sweet, beautiful girl.

Cordelia did not purposefully go to hell so she could be slapped around by the likes of her mother. Her mother had been a horrible Supreme, and now she was dead and buried, no longer a blight on Cordelia's sanity. She meant no more to Cordelia then her buried husband did.

With Misty clear in her mind's eye, Cordelia's own hand shot out seconds before Fiona's struck her. With a strength unlike any she had ever felt before she clutched her mother's wrist in her hand and began to squeeze, hard.

Fiona let out a strangled noise of surprise and stumbled back this time, held up only by Cordelia. As if a spell had been cast the woman began to age right before the Surpreme's eyes, and in a matter of seconds Fiona was the old, sick woman who had stood before her three months ago.

"Delia, honey, you're hurting me," Fiona gasped, her breath heavy with the stench of death.

"Like you hurt me mother?" Cordelia asked narrowing her eyes. "It has to say something about your parenting skills when my idea of hell is spending eternity with you."

"I did wrong by you, I know, but I did love you-" Fiona started.

"Yeah in your own way," Cordelia mocked shaking her head and squeezing tighter until she felt the flesh and bones beneath her hand start to give. Face hard she moved forwards until she was nose to nose with her mother. "Your fault Momma, was that you should have been the one looking for my acceptance all along. I've outgrown you."

With one last squeeze and flick of her wrist Fiona let out a shriek and then her frail weak body turned to ashes, blowing away on some unknown breeze back into the depths of hell.

Cordelia straightened up and turned her head, a smirk on her lips as she met Papa Legba's shocked eyes. "So glad to meet you," she said turning to the loa and smiling widely.

"What have you done?" The loa asked, stepping away cautiously from Cordelia.

"Something I should have done a long time ago," Cordelia laughed, slapping her hands together to get the last specks of ash off of them.

"This is impossible. Nobody can bend my world like that," the soul collector demanded.

Cordelia really laughed this time. Shaking her head she put her hands on her hips, "Oh but Papa Legba I am not a nobody. I am the Supreme. The strongest Supreme my coven has ever seen. Your world is my world if I wish it." For emphasis she flicked her wrist and the loa was suddenly laying on the floor looking up at her.

"Enough," Papa Legba roared materializing in front of Cordelia in a flash, his hand wrapped around a blood stained machete. With another flick of her wrist the machete was gone, a cheap toy sword taking its place. "What kind of witch are you?" the loa asked, fear evident in his voice for probably the first time in his existence.

Now was time for business, Cordelia's eyes narrowed. "I am the kind of witch you'd face in your own personal hell Papa Legba. I am a witch in love and I'm a very pissed off witch who will tear every version of this place apart unless she gets what she came for."

Papa Legba stumbled back and narrowed his eyes. "You've come for your mother?"

"Ha!" Cordelia barked throwing head back. "For all I care my mother can rot for eternity in whatever dank hell you've thrown her into. She got herself there."

"Then what do you want?" the loa asked, narrowing his eyes fiercely.

"I've come for Misty Day. She does not deserve to be here," Cordelia demanded, her voice unwavering.

Papa Legba made the mistake of laughing. "No no. This I can not do. Misty Day wandered into my world all on her own. She came of her own free will. She belongs to me now. Her body is ashes."

Fury. Unadulterated fury coursed through Cordelia's veins and she only minutely realized that her powers were manifesting around them when Papa Legba's smile changed suddenly to horror. "No what are you doing!" He screamed.

Around them the walls had began to burn, large gaping holes opening up and revealing glimpses into other people's personal hells. And apparently when you've spent eternity reliving the same moment over and over again a wall catching fire garners your attention because as Papa Legba was looking at them, the were looking back. And they looked piss.

Whispers of vapors suddenly started pouring through the room. All of the souls Papa Legba had spent eternity catching were convening, escaping it seemed. "Stop this!" the Loa screamed, grabbing in vain at the vapors.

"I will release every soul you own until I find Misty's Papa Legba. Do no test me," Cordelia demanded, fire curling around her body like a phoenix.

She could see it in his eyes. She had won. With a roar and a snap of his fingers Cordelia no longer stood in that dark room where her mother's judgment was to be her eternal torment. The loa and his souls no longer surrounded her.

Instead she stood in a bright room that smelt heavy of chemicals and body odor. Shaking her head and stumbling back Cordelia blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness of the over head fluorescent lights.

As her vision cleared so did her hearing and what she heard about broke her heart. Her Misty, wailing in pain.

Shaking off the last bit of vertigo Cordelia head snapped towards the sound. Tears springing to her eyes when they found Misty sitting in the corner of the classroom, it was a classroom she realized, sobbing as a man stood over her.

"If you won't dissect a dead frog, you'll dissect a live one," he demanded, harshly grabbing Misty's hands and forcing them downward.

Furiously Cordelia's hands swept out in front of her, sending desks and students and the teacher flying against the walls like an explosion. Misty did not notice, her face red with exhaustion and tears as she stared down at the frog in front of her, dead by her hands.

Wordlessly Cordelia strode towards the resurgent and very gently put her arms around Misty. Carefully she put her hands over the girl's and whispered under her breath, smiling when Misty sucked in a deep breath and the frog croaked once again.

"C-Cordelia," Misty whimpered turning and looking at Fiona with wide, tear filled eyes. God she looked so tired.

"It's okay Misty," Cordelia cooed, running her hands through the girl's wild hair and looking into her eyes. "I've come to get you out of here."

"I-I wasn't strong enough," Misty said in her thick accent, her voice trembling. "I just couldn't leave it to die."

"I know Sweetie," Cordelia said with a sad smile. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't know if I could."

"Am I really done? Can I really leave?" Misty asked, her hands covering Cordelia's and squeezing as relief started to register on her face.

"You're done Misty. I'm taking you with me," the Supreme whispered and leant forwards, her lips meeting Misty's just as a bell rang around them.

The lips under hers were soft and yielding, and Cordelia couldn't help but sigh into them when Misty's tongue flicked out to taste her. Only when Cordelia's lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen did she relent, her eyes fluttering open to see Misty looking at her with awe and love.

Smiling Cordelia backed up, her hands gesturing around them to the fine walls and wooden floors of her bedroom. "Welcome home Misty Day."

Misty let out a sob of relief and joy, rushing forwards suddenly and burying her face in Cordelia's neck. "I finally found my tribe."

The Supreme laughed and held the resurgent close to her body, her own tears coming down tenfold. "Yes you did Misty Day. And not even hell can take you away from it or me. Now sleep, we'll talk in the morning," Cordelia whispered, moving her bed towards them as apposed to them moving towards it.

Misty was asleep almost immediately, her fingers wrapped tightly in Cordelia's shirt, and her lips pressed against the Surpreme's neck. Cordelia, though, was awake until dawn like the many nights before. Only this time it was no nightmare that kept her awake, just the sweet sounds of Misty sleeping and the promises tomorrow held.


End file.
